


How Foxglove Grows

by loveliesinwakanda (orphan_account)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Pre-Canon, Pre-Iron Man 1, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Young Michelle Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/loveliesinwakanda
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Michelle Jones did not meet Tony Stark for the first time through Peter Parker. She didn’t meet him through his work with the military or his medical advancements, both of which would be likely considering her parents. No. As would be fitting for the rest of her life, she met the future superhero at a protest. In fact, she met him before the future spiderling did. So really, Peter's been playing catch up since before they met.In which Michelle was a spitfire and Tony Stark learned a thing or two from an elementary school kid. (A one-shot that fits into the Foxglove & Spider's timeline but can be read as a stand-alone.)





	How Foxglove Grows

Contrary to popular belief, Michelle Jones did not meet Tony Stark for the first time through Peter Parker. She didn’t meet him through his work with the military or his medical advancements, both of which would be likely considering her parents. No. As would be fitting for the rest of her life, she met the future superhero at a protest. In fact, she met him before the future spiderling did. So really, Peter’s been playing catch up since before they met.

Michelle’s mother was typically never politically inclined, but she had put her foot down when it came to the latest weapon Stark Industries had begun testing. Her father, having been one of the few people on the field to be allowed information to it, was worried about how destructive it could be. He said it was “only a few notches short of an atomic bomb and would be used way too freely”. Mrs. Jones decided she had to do something. So, she went to the march for those in favor of putting strict restrictions on the weapon with a poster board in hand and her daughter in tow.

Michelle was highly intelligent for a child and it was safe to say that night was pivotal to her and how she would use her intellect in the future. Her mother had gripped her hand tightly, chanting along with the crowd as her daughter gazed with wide eyes.

“Momma,” she tugged on their locked hands. “Why are all these people here?”

“Because they see something is wrong and want to stop it.” Her mother had sent her a kind smile, pulling her closer to her.

“But how does this help?”

Her mother paused in her walking to pick up her child, the girl leaning on her shoulder. She sighed in the warm embrace. “Baby, sometimes people do things they shouldn’t or make things they shouldn’t. Sometimes those things hurt people. Whenever you see people hurting it’s your job to help them. That’s why your daddy and I do what we do.”

“Why would they want to hurt people though? That’s mean.” Michelle had pulled away to look at her mom before shaking her head in disgust at the thought of someone knowingly hurting people.

“It is mean, but sometimes people do bad things when they aren’t thinking straight or when people tell them it’s good for people. Few people out there are mean just for the sake of being mean.” She brushed a curl out of her daughter’s face before walking with the others on the trail that would lead them to Stark Towers.

Michelle thought for a minute. As the smart girl she was, she knew how to connect the dots. If Mr… - she glanced at a few of the signs with his face and name on them to get the name right- Mr. Stark wasn’t mean, maybe he just didn’t know any better. Maybe his momma and daddy never told him.

She mentally huffed. He must be a bad adult. Adults were ‘pposed to know these things.

Michelle had decided she was going to teach Mr. Stark about not hurting people. She guessed sometimes adults needed to learn things too.

It couldn’t be too hard. She had taught her friend’s dog how to play fetch and how to shake in a few days.

She and her mother had been outside for a while before anyone actually addressed the crowd. Her mother had been pushed to the front after being asked by some reporter to comment on why they were marching and what the issue was. Michelle had hidden her face in her mother’s shoulder, the light they held to illuminate the protesters was bright and the girl was rather sensitive.

“Ma’am, what is your name?”

“Mary Jones,” she stated carefully. “I’m a medical researcher as well as a full-time doctor at staff at the center near here.”

“Do you believe it is appropriate for such a small child to be at a protest such as this?” Michelle felt the urge to give the man the look her father called “fearsome enough to make an army retreat” but she settled for holding her mother tighter.

Mrs. Jones narrowed her eyes. “Considering it is children just like her who could be hurt by these weapons, I see protesting as one of the least harmful things in this conversation. Teaching my daughter empathy is not a crime. These weapons should be.”

Michelle heard the gasps of shock around her and the shifting of the hot lights became absent from her exposed skin. She heard a slow clap before she opened one of her eyes to see what was going on.

She saw the man from the posters and sign walking toward them while clapping as though seeing an old friend. “Mrs. Mary Jones, a pleasure. Though I wish we had met under… better circumstances.”

Behind him was a woman with red hair, seemingly questioning if she could drag in back into the tower on her own. She seemed to have lost the internal fight as she decided to simply shoot the man an irritated look while glancing back at the main entrance.

“Mr. Stark,” her mother had responded cordially. No disdain. It reminded Michelle of the voice she used when discussing results with her colleagues.

“Your work in the effects radiation is truly amazing,” he praised. “As well as your research in developmental treatment and powered individuals. Honestly, you’re at the top of my list for if or when Stark Industries gets involved in medical assistance and pharmaceuticals.”

“Mr. Stark,” the red-headed woman hissed, this time grabbing his wrist to emphasize the need to leave the flashing cameras and recording reporters.

“How rude of me, this is my personal assistant.” He gestured for the woman to step forward, which she did begrudgingly. “Ms. Pepper Potts.”

Mr. Stark’s assistant smiled at Mrs. Jones, hesitantly shaking her hand. “Hello there, ma’am. I apologize for Mr. Stark’s forwardness. He saw you on the live reporting and recognized you due to your work, we will be leaving you now-.”

Tony, however, disregarded the hint and stepped closer. “Ah, this must be the future genius, right? Already skipping grades. What was her name again?”

While Ms. Potts looked horrified, her mother seemed to be at a loss for words. “How-?”

“Oh, your husband works closely with Colonel Rhodes who works closely with me. May I?”

Before her mother could respond, Michelle felt herself being lifted into the man’s arms. Her eyes widened, and she did the first thing she could think of. She bit his arm.

He set her down immediately, to the sound of gasps and whispers all around. Ms. Pott’s moved to look at his arm, which was obviously protected by the full suit he had decided to wear. Michelle didn’t bite to hurt him, just to get him off her. Her daddy always said that if someone touches you that you don’t know to kick and scream until you get help, but her legs were to short to kick him from how he had held her, so she figured biting would work too.

The people around looked shocked, some looked like there were fearful for the small girl. The man easily broke the tension with a laugh as he looked at the woman before him, “She sure is a spitfire.”

The short, young girl pouted, kicking his shin lightly to get him to look at her instead of her mother. “I’m Michelle, not spitfire.”

He smiled down at her, seemingly unaffected by her kick. He crouched down to her height, a smile still on his face. She had moved to hold onto her mother’s leg out of habit.

“Well, Michelle, my name is Tony Stark.” He put his hand out to her, pulling off his sunglasses with his other hand.

She hesitated but shook his hand with the other pulling on the back of her shirt.

“Now, I’m sure your mom told you not to bite. It’s not nice to hurt people.”

She glared. “Aren’t the things you make hurting people?”

The man’s mouth opened but no words came out at first. “They’re protecting people. There’s a difference.”

Michelle stood her ground, shaking her head. “Hurting is hurting.”

He gave her a small smile. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Mr. Stark,” The Pepper lady spoke firmly.

“Alright, alright,” He said, fighting a laugh as he stood. He ruffled the small girl’s hair before shaking her mother’s hand. “Really was a pleasure, Mrs. Jones.”

Her mother nodded once but stayed with the protestors as the two reentered the building. After a few minutes, the chanting started again, and the reporters focused on the reasons the protestors had come. No one questioned her mother and her exiting about an hour later as the chanting followed them all the way back home.

* * *

 

When Mr. Stark went missing Michelle decided to write him a letter. She had seen her mother and father write letters to people, even government officials when they wanted to let them know how they felt but didn’t have their number. She didn’t know if they ever read them, but she wanted to write it anyway. Her momma always said it’s better to tell others how you feel then to bottle it up even if they don’t listen.

She got out a lined piece of paper and her set of crayons and got to work. She wrote the letter a few times, having her mom check the spelling and grammar, before deciding on her perfect final draft. She drew the red-headed lady she saw with Mr. Stark at the bottom of the letter smiling with a sun in the back and people playing in the park behind them. When it was perfect she careful copied the address, her mother wrote down on a scrap of paper on the envelope before licking the envelope shut. She had proudly placed the stamp with the Dalmatian in the corner, looking at her masterpiece happily. She had even handed it to the mailman herself.

For about a month after the letter was sent, she could recite what she had written from memory: _“Dear Mr. Stark. I apologize for biting and kicking you. It wasn’t very nice. But I don’t think that it’s nice what you’re making. That doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re nice though. Momma says that sometimes good people do bad things, but I don’t think doing bad things makes you a bad person. Doing bad things and knowing they hurt people and not caring makes people bad, but I don’t think you know. My daddy protects, and he’s one of the good guys. I hope you become one of the good guys, momma says there’s enough mean out there. From, the Spitfire at the protest (Michelle).”_

If you asked her when she was older, she would tell you it was stupid. That she was a child who knew nothing and saw the world through rose-colored lenses.

But, if you asked Tony Stark he’d tell you it was one of the few things that made him smile after hours of working on a suit to no avail. He’d say it was hung on the wall of his lab like next to his diplomas and awards. He’d say it was one of the reason’s he believed he could become one of the good guys.


End file.
